


without limit

by predebut



Category: ENHYPEN (Band)
Genre: A Predebut Backstory is Something That Can Be So Personal, And Some Tenderness, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Light Pining, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29725473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/predebut/pseuds/predebut
Summary: The truth is that Jungwon has always looked at Jongseong with longing for something else, with wanting something more: at first it had been that heart-on-sleeve openness, the way Jongseong had readily let himself seem so vulnerable for everyone else to prod at, then it had been BigHit. Now, his feelings have transformed into something else entirely.(Or: all of his idol training couldn’t have prepared Jungwon for facing his first real crush)
Relationships: Park Jongseong | Jay/Yang Jungwon
Comments: 22
Kudos: 135





	without limit

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to r for offering priceless beta feedback, k for reassuring me through discord dms, r for looking over the final draft, and ofc my extended tlist for not really understanding jaywon (lol) but cheering me on anyways ♡
> 
> this fic references a couple of canon predebut events, namely jay & jungwon being former sm trainees (jay for a couple months ~2015-2016, jungwon for three years from 2015-2018) and jay's brunei trip with heeseung and jungwon in 2019. i talk more about my sources of inspiration in the end notes ;;

The gift of the self,  
that is without limit.  
Without limit, though it recurs.  
— _Prism_ , Louise Gluck

//

On Jungwon’s birthday, the dorm fills with smoke.

Jongseong had gotten it into his head that it would be a good idea to celebrate with steak and had shooed everyone—besides Heeseung—from the kitchen while he labored over the food.

Jungwon had told Jongseong, right as he was being blocked from entering the kitchen with a palm to his chest, that he didn’t have to do this. Jongseong held his hand over Jungwon’s thudding heartbeat. He’d replied, serious and earnest, _But I want to._ And Jungwon had let him.

Then, about twenty minutes later: smoke. The smell of something burning, in an admittedly delectable way.

“Everything’s fine!” Heeseung calls, following that up with a hysterical giggle.

Jungwon, who’d been playing a round of FIFA with Riki in the living room, shouts back “That doesn’t _sound_ fine, hyung!”

That said, it’s Jongseong. No matter what type of disaster he leaves in his wake, his cooking _is_ really good. Jungwon can feel Jongseong’s eyes on him as he takes the first bite of the steak, but he doesn’t need to exaggerate his reaction or anything.

“It’s delicious,” Jungwon tells him, watching a proud little smile unfurl across Jongseong’s face. Jungwon looks over at the other members, who nod in agreement. “Right?”

There’s only one complaint. In their makeup room, Sunghoon sniffs at the sleeve of his shirt then makes a pinched face at the mirror. “My clothes still smell like meat.” He’d made a similar fuss after dinner in his own restrained way, a tight-lipped smile as he told Jongseong that _cleaning up is the most important part of cooking._ The members had all helped with tidying up the mess, in the end.

“Just wash them, hyung,” Jungwon replies, smiling despite himself. Sunghoon doesn’t like nagging at the others to tidy up, but that’s honestly when he’s the most endearing.

Sunghoon turns to him and rolls his eyes. “You think it’s cute—you think _he’s_ cute.”

Jungwon blinks. “What?”

“Jongseong wouldn’t do this for anyone else,” Sunghoon continues. “You know that.”

Jungwon pauses, lets it sink in for a couple of moments. _This_ meaning: a special meal that had taken hours to prepare, in the midst of their busy schedules; Jongseong grabbing his wrist, thumb over his pulse as he asked Jungwon what he _really_ thought. _This_ denoting so many different things, now.

“Yeah, I do know that,” Jungwon replies. But it had taken him a long time for him to get here, to realize all of this.

//

Jungwon’s first memories of Jongseong are hazy, filtered through the nervousness of his late childhood. At the time they had been polite acquaintances; he never had an inkling of anything more, of how their paths would intertwine in the future.

Trainees came and went every month at SM, and Jungwon—twelve years old, on the younger side even among those hoping to join the youth boy group—wasn’t very close to any of them. It was easier, after all, to keep his head down and focus on the work instead, to hope that his diligence would pay off in due time. Or—maybe not easier, but certainly simpler, for Jungwon to return home to his grandmother’s warm embrace and spill his worries there instead.

So: Jongseong. Sometimes Jungwon wonders if he’s overwritten those old memories by attempting to recall them so much, if he’s molded the boy he first met into the image of the man he’d become.

Jongseong could barely hold a note to save his life back then. He hadn’t properly learned how to manage his limbs either, but even then he’d been himself: a little embarrassing, readily taking the brunt of a joke with a yelp or a shout, and thoughtlessly generous.

Jungwon didn’t like Jongseong all that much at first. He didn’t like any of the trainees, really. Not that it mattered: in the end, it had been Jongseong who did all the liking for him.

//

On the day Enhypen’s first mini-album comes out, he, Jongseong, and Sunghoon walk through the early morning cold to vlog visiting a music store in Sinchon. The sight of their glossy new albums on the shelves makes everything that much more real. They’ve made it, they’re debuting—all seven of them, they’re truly idols now.

It also reminds Jungwon of something else.

“The only time I’ve bought a physical album was BTS’s _Wings_ ,” Jongseong says. He must’ve had the same thought as Jungwon.

How long has it been since then? Four years since Jongseong messaged him on KaTalk out of the blue and asked him if he’d ever heard “Blood Sweat & Tears.” Three since Jongseong made it into the same agency as Bangtan Sonyeondan. Two since Jongseong ran into him and his grandmother while shopping and said, earnest and wide-eyed, _hey, have you ever thought of joining BigHit—?_

And here they are, together, buying their first EP. Sometimes it drowns his breath away, how things work out like that.

“I remember you wouldn’t stop talking about that album,” Jungwon says lightly, nudging Jongseong’s shoulder.

It’s all he has the words for. They share a look for a moment and Jongseong understands, somehow, giving him a small nod before turning back to Sunghoon.

//

This is how it starts:

After three years of training for a dream never realized, Jungwon finally decides to switch over to BigHit instead. He’s hoping for a new start, another chance at debuting.

It’s different, here, and he needs to recalibrate himself; he stays late on his first day at the agency, trying to make sense of everything. Not just how much Jongseong has changed—no longer the scattered middle schooler Jungwon once knew, more driven and direct—but his surroundings as well. The way trainee ranks are proudly posted in a neatly ordered list, the names he’ll soon become familiar with clustered at the top.

Jongseong lingers by his side as the day ends. Jungwon had seen one of the other trainees—Heeseung, maybe, the same name topping all of the rankings—waiting for him, but Jongseong gestured for him to leave.

“So, what do you think?” Jongseong asks, eager to hear his opinion.

“I’m not sure yet,” Jungwon replies honestly. “It’s nice, I guess.” He avoids Jongseong’s eye contact by ducking his head, combing through his backpack for the fare he needs for the bus ride home.

He wants to understand Jongseong’s glowing enthusiasm, the way he’s become such a different, motivated trainee in the time since Jungwon saw him last. But he doesn’t, not yet.

“I’m glad you joined,” Jongseong tells him. “Jungwon-ah, I wanted to say…” He shifts his weight back and forth on his feet, seemingly waiting for something. “Actually, nevermind.”

Jungwon would be more curious about what Jongseong’s trying to tell him if he had his bus fare within reach. Right now, he still can’t find the money.

“Um, hyung?” Jungwon asks, finally caving. “Can you lend me manwon?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jongseong replies without hesitation, taking out his wallet and handing over the bill.

Jungwon isn’t sure what made it so hard to ask in the first place. Maybe it’s because he’s here in part due to Jongseong, and for today Jungwon can return home because of him, too.

“Thanks, hyung. I’ll pay you back tomorrow, I promise,” Jungwon says. He’s about to turn and leave the building—it’s late, he’ll miss the bus if he doesn’t otherwise—when Jongseong calls out to him.

“Wait, Jungwon-ah,” Jongseong begins with the same hesitance from earlier as he rubs the back of his neck. “I know we weren’t close at SM, but—just know that you can ask me for anything.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jungwon replies automatically, still processing Jongseong’s words. He waves goodbye and thinks over what Jongseong had said as he heads over to the bus stop.

It’s hard for Jungwon, walking around feeling like he owes someone—especially when he’d spent so long existing as an island apart from others, beholden to no one. Not that anything Jongseong gives is ever meant to feel like a debt, but Jungwon’s always had the habit of holding kind gestures too close to his chest.

Jungwon should be cautious of how close he treads—for however much BigHit may differ from SM, he knows that the basic principles are the same. Fast turnover, exhaustion, burnout: some things never change, are immutable, like a universal weight that all trainees have to bear. He’s seen too many people come and go, a vast sea with the regularity of tides, over the past three years. He’s lost hope of ever anchoring himself, of finding something to attach to among his fellow trainees.

On the bus, Jungwon closes his eyes and thinks of what he’ll tell his grandmother about his day, instead.

//

No, that’s not quite right. Maybe _this_ is how things truly begin:

One night, back while they’re in the process of preparing for their debut, Riki crawls into Jungwon’s bed instead of Sunoo’s and asks him, “Have you ever dated anyone?”

“What do _you_ think?” Jungwon replies, utterly baffled.

Sharing a bed with Riki is always a toss-up. By that, Jungwon means it’s almost guaranteed that he’ll wake up with a stiff neck and some share of discomfort, but usually the other benefits—sharing secrets and whispering conversations in the dark, Riki giggling in his ear for once—balance it out a bit.

Still, this question is—well, isn’t the answer obvious? Yang Jungwon, _dating_? He’s seventeen.

Riki’s presence is warm beside him. Jungwon can picture the inquisitive expression on Riki’s face with his eyes closed.

“As expected,” Riki says. “What about a crush, hyung?”

“No, I haven’t.” Jungwon never could’ve had the time for such things, and he knows Riki is the same as him in that aspect: committed to his dream from the start, becoming an idol his first infatuation, his first love.

Feeling lacking, all of a sudden, he adds, “You should ask Sunghoon-hyung or Jaeyun-hyung about these things; they probably know more than me.”

According to Jongseong, Sunghoon dated some girl while they were trainees. As for Jake, well, Jungwon had always assumed they were a little more _relaxed_ about that type of stuff in Australia.

Riki is silent for a couple of moments. “Why not Heeseung-hyung or Jongseong-hyung?”

“Maybe Heeseung-hyung, too,” Jungwon says slowly. In truth, it’s hard for him to imagine Heeseung—so determined and heedlessly single-minded, focused on his dream and the hierarchy he’d hoped would bring him to it—wasting time on distractions like that.

“As for Jongseong-hyung”—Jungwon swallows as he tries to picture it, Jongseong actually crushing on someone, and it brings up memories he’d long forgotten at this point—"well, definitely not."

“Who would want to date Jongseong-hyung?” adds Jungwon, a little derisive.

The question hangs in the air, suspended between the two of them for a moment. Jungwon expects a snort, the usual laughter that comes along with gently teasing one of their favorite hyungs. Instead, he’s met with more quiet.

Jungwon tries to imagine it—Jongseong hand in hand with some girl, shopping for trendy clothes together in Myeongdong, eating the specially-prepared meal Jongseong would inevitably cook for her—and quickly it morphs into something startlingly more real: Jongseong reaching out to grab _his_ hand, that same smile facing _him_ instead.

He blinks his eyes open in shock. What is he _thinking_ —

“Well,” Riki says finally, quiet and serious. “Engenes probably do.”

“Yes, the fans,” he says blankly. Only the fans, and no one else. Especially not him.

//

Jungwon catches on to a few things quickly once he’s at BigHit. Like how everyone seems to regard Heeseung as this unapproachable ace trainee, untouchable and not to be interfered with. Like how Jongseong seems to like Heeseung _so much_ , not in the same way as everyone else, but softer, gentler.

He doesn’t talk to Jongseong that much during the day, sticking to the established hierarchy and hanging around the newer, younger trainees instead. But even then, Jungwon can’t help but look over from time to time, notice the two of them together. Jongseong always angled towards Heeseung like the moon facing the sun, so bright, so completely _obvious._

Sometimes Jungwon feels a hot lick of shame in his stomach as he watches, embarrassed at how blatantly Jongseong wears his emotions, his _heart_ , on his sleeve. Other times, much more rarely, Jungwon wonders what it would be like to have a friend look at him like that. With that much trust, that much care—he wants it for himself. Jungwon doesn’t understand how Jongseong does it.

All of these feelings are passing thoughts, washing past him quickly in the midst of busy days spent practicing. Between the switch from BigHit to Belift and the rumors of a new debut group forming, it's easy for Jungwon to focus on his training instead.

Jungwon has the chance to face it head-on for the first time during their trip to Brunei, Jongseong inviting him and Heeseung to visit one of his father’s restaurants together. That summer, the weather is hot and humid, the air weighing down on them as they walk through the streets. There’s something about traveling to a new place that’s just so exhilarating—even the atmosphere feels different, swirling with something unfamiliar.

Jungwon takes the opportunity to observe Heeseung and Jongseong together, up close. He takes Heeseung in with the clinical perspective of a trainee, at first—Heeseung’s got pretty doe eyes, a flash of bright teeth that look a little too white—but can't manage to do the same with Jongseong. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to evaluate Jongseong objectively without having to put effort into neutrality beforehand.

But even with a sheen of bias, he can see how clearly Jongseong cares for Heeseung. It’s unlike the type of distanced reverence that the other trainees direct toward him. Jongseong’s good at overcoming that sort of barrier, and they seem like—like really close friends, Jungwon supposes.

Jongseong touches his shoulder. “You haven’t been saying much, Jungwon-ah,” he says. They're sitting at the restaurant, waiting for their food to arrive. “Don’t be intimidated by Heeseung-hyung, he’s honestly a dork.”

Jungwon glances over at Heeseung, who smiles at him encouragingly, and gathers himself. “I’m not _intimidated,_ ” he says, and that much is true. He’d only wanted to gauge the situation before joining in. “Besides, if anyone is the dork, it’s definitely you, hyung.”

“Yah,” Jongseong groans, facepalming. Jungwon can see his sheepish smile in between his fingers, and something pleased curls up in his chest at the sight. “I already get enough slander from Heeseung-hyung, this is too much.” Heeseung high-fives Jungwon over the table.

Jungwon gets along well with Heeseung, he finds—they still don’t know each other yet, both of them more attuned to Jongseong, but they settle into a rhythm while teasing Jongseong together.

Jongseong makes it easy, anyways, with his tropical shirts and ridiculous sunglasses.

“I didn’t realize the two of you together would lead to _this_ ,” Jongseong complains later, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly. Heeseung takes off Jongseong’s sunglasses—he’d been doing an imitation, then, of how Jongseong sounded while ordering food—and shares a smile with Jungwon.

Sometimes it’s balanced, all three of them, but other times Jungwon wonders if he’s intruding on Heeseung and Jongseong. Jongseong certainly has a way of looking at Heeseung that makes him feel like he’s watching something that isn’t meant for his eyes. And up close, Jungwon can see that it isn’t one-sided, that Heeseung enjoys spending time with Jongseong as much as Jongseong does with him.

Jungwon finally gets a chance to talk to Heeseung more closely when they return to the hotel room. With Jongseong in the shower, it’s just him and Heeseung.

“So, Jungwon-ah,” Heeseung begins casually. He’s sprawled out on one of the beds, scrolling through his phone as he speaks. “How do you know Jongseong? I didn’t even realize you guys were friends before this trip.”

Jungwon glances out the window instead of looking directly at Heeseung. The moon glows bright, luminous in the night sky.

In truth, Jungwon hadn’t realized they were close either. They don’t get the opportunity to talk much, despite Jongseong’s assurances that he would take care of him. Jungwon honestly didn’t know that their infrequent convenience store trips, Jongseong’s habit of paying for his drinks or popsicles, had meant much of anything until Jongseong had invited him on this trip a couple of weeks back.

“Oh. We trained together at SM,” Jungwon replies. He’s sitting at the desk chair, the one that can swivel around, and he does a slow little spin, stopping when he faces Heeseung again. “But we weren’t—we aren’t that close. Not like you and Jongseong-hyung.” His voice sounds odd to his own ears, and Jungwon can’t tell if it’s latent jealousy or something more complicated.

Heeseung looks up from his phone, then, regarding Jungwon for a moment. “Isn’t that by your choice?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Jungwon starts another spin, not wanting to face Heeseung’s piercing eye contact.

Heeseung halts Jungwon’s chair with an outstretched hand. It’s unavoidable, facing each other now. “You get along well with everyone, but nobody really knows you,” he says. “Not even Jongseong.”

Jungwon blinks. “It’s easier that way.” He’d thought Heeseung, of all people—so often spotted alone in a practice room, the trainee who stays the latest into the night and still shows up early the next day—would understand. “I mean—I could never be like Jongseong-hyung.” Group dinners, arms slung over shoulders, fashion advice when they shopped for clothes before monthly evaluations: Jongseong is someone else entirely, unfathomable at times. _When I see someone that's my style, I just go up and talk to them,_ Jongseong had told him once. Jungwon's practically the opposite of that.

Heeseung shrugs. “It isn’t a weakness to care about someone else, Jungwon-ah.” He pauses, then adds: “If anything, it makes you stronger.”

//

Jungwon, as expected, wakes up with his neck and shoulders stiff, Riki’s arms slung over his body. Lying there is uncomfortable, much too hot; he extricates himself from Riki’s embrace without finesse and splashes cold water on his face in the bathroom. It’s in the middle of washing up that he remembers last night. _Have you ever had a crush?_

Under the harsh fluorescent bathroom lights, cold morning air settling into his skin, it’s easy for Jungwon to dismiss the conversation, the thoughts he’d had. How ludicrous, really, to ever think Jungwon would want to date _him_.

It isn’t because Jongseong is a guy or anything like that; Jungwon realized he was attracted to boys the first time he saw Choi Beomgyu in person, had calmly acknowledged it and moved on. It’s because it’s _Jongseong._ The same ridiculous, heartfelt boy who cares too much about whether he looks cool or not, who overthinks even the smallest things, whose voice cracks Jungwon is intimately familiar with.

He decides to go wake up Jongseong first, just to drive the point home. Jungwon stands over Jongseong's bed and watches him for a moment. Staring down at Jongseong’s face, slack with sleep, Jungwon decides that he’d never want to wake up next to it.

Relief floods into Jungwon. He begins to shake Jongseong awake.

//

Jongseong doesn’t mean to wake him up as they rest in I-Land’s lounge together. Jungwon is certain of it by the way Jongseong’s fingers card through his hair, gentle and soft, an allowance that Jungwon would never usually give him had he been awake. Now, with everyone thinking that he’s still asleep on Jongseong’s lap, he lets it continue. Jungwon feels like a cat basking in sunlight, soaking up all of Jongseong’s affection while he can still get away with it.

Something has changed between them, now that they’re at I-Land: maybe it’s the high tension, the bitter aftertaste of nearly every conversation, lighthearted or not. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s so close to another shot at debuting, and after five years of training, it seems almost surreal.

But Jungwon starts to notice, for the first time, just how touchy Jongseong—no, _Jay_ —is. In all senses of the word: sure, there’s the trademark resentment, anger, and shame, especially when pitted against Heeseung, but more than that there’s Jongseong’s physical affection. This is something Jungwon had grown accustomed to as they trained together: casual taps to get his attention, pats on the back as a sign of support.

It’s only with the weight of the cameras on him that he begins to realize how much it is. Jongseong throwing an arm over his shoulders, smiling as they eat meals together. Jongseong hugging him from behind in the practice rooms, as they sit with the other trainees in the lobby, when they’re laying in bed together. Jongseong saying goodbye before he'd left to Ground, a whispered promise to return warm against his ear.

Heeseung had been right, back in Brunei—caring has made him stronger. Jongseong’s wordless support means as much to him as his 4 AM conversations with Heeseung. But at the same time, Jungwon can’t help but wonder if this is a weakness, too—relying on someone who could be eliminated or could just as easily debut without him. This isn’t a problem with a solution that he can figure out; it’s difficult to consider, honestly.

So instead of thinking, Jungwon stays put and relaxes his face as he feigns sleep. Just a few more minutes, he thinks. It’ll soon be time to get back to practice. But for now, he’s resting and recharging, drawing strength from one of the brightest people he knows.

“Is Jungwon asleep?” a voice asks. It’s Heeseung, speaking softly as to not disturb him.

“Yeah, he is,” Jongseong replies. His hand stills, settling on the nape of Jungwon’s neck. “So cute, right?” Jungwon fights the urge to smile.

Heeseung hums in agreement, and their conversation ends after that.

Jongseong wakes him up a couple of minutes later. It isn’t the same way that he furiously shakes Sunghoon or Jake awake for rehearsals in the mornings—no, Jongseong rubs Jungwon’s shoulder and says, gentle, “Jungwon-ah, it’s time to get up now. Practice is starting soon.”

Jungwon makes a show of waking up slowly, rubbing his eyes and blinking at Jongseong repeatedly. Jongseong smiles back at him; Jungwon has never known such an expression could hold so many things. He isn’t sure he’s ready to face any of it, that soft vulnerability, quite yet.

Jongseong, Jungwon thinks, isn’t hard to love. Not when Jongseong would readily drop anything to help the other trainees; not when he’d sacrifice himself for the team, regardless of how bad he looks. But sometimes I-Land’s Jay is difficult to like. Hard on the ears, blunt to the point of being rude, outspokenness taken too far.

They’re all struggling, now. And no one knows what the future holds for either of them.

There’s no use thinking about this any longer. “Let’s go practice,” Jungwon says abruptly, standing up from the couch. Without looking back to see if Jongseong will follow, he turns and heads downstairs. He’s determined to stop Jongseong from becoming his weakness, too.

//

Jungwon doesn’t think about his talk with Riki—nor the realization that had followed—directly. Regardless, he finds it seeping into the corners of his daily life. He’ll accidentally catch himself looking at Jongseong for too long; he overthinks leaning into Jongseong’s touch. It’s almost as if he’s back on I-Land again, except instead of being under the camera’s watchful gaze, he’s just subjecting himself—and Jongseong—to his own scrutiny.

It’s only logical to try and figure out whether Jongseong can return his feelings, after all. And while it’s no secret that Jongseong likes him, Jungwon has never stopped to consider how _much_ he does—how Jongseong broadcasts all of his emotions like a beacon, bright and impossible to ignore. Jungwon knows Jongseong well enough to be certain that his fondness doesn’t stray past anything platonic, that what’s there at the surface is all Jungwon will get. But still, he can’t help but wonder—

“Hyung, why did you like me so much?” Jungwon asks Jongseong one day. They’re back in the dorms again, sitting on the couch together. Riki’s on the other side of him, playing a mobile game with Heeseung, but neither of them pay attention.

“What do you mean?” Jongseong replies, scribbling away a list of vocabulary words in his notebook. He's been trying to pick up yet another language, supposedly French, on top of their Japanese and English studies.

“Back when we were first trainees,” Jungwon continues. “Didn’t you like me a lot back then?” He phrases everything in past tense. It’s simpler, because in truth Jungwon doesn’t know any nice way to say, _hyung, you clearly prefer me to everyone else, but is it just because I’m your precious little dongsaeng or could it be something more?_

“All of a sudden?” Jongseong laughs, oblivious, nudging his shoulder against Jungwon’s. “You were so cute back then, with your curly hair.” He gives Jungwon a questioning look, then continues. “But didn’t everyone like you? I wasn’t different from anyone else.”

“Okay, hyung.” Jungwon considers Jongseong’s words: _I wasn’t different from anyone else._ That should be the truth—that is the truth.

But that still doesn’t change the fact that it’s Jongseong who stands out to _him_ the most. Jongseong who _he_ might have feelings for, in a way that belies logic altogether.

//

A week into summer training, Jungwon gets the chance to talk with Heeseung alone. They sit together on the practice room floor, enjoying the empty space before training starts again.

“I’m so glad we got closer,” Heeseung tells him, resting his head on Jungwon’s shoulder.

It’s been ages since their last true conversation, their schedule too busy for either of them to think about much beyond the binary of practice and rest. Jungwon’s more relaxed now, regardless: he never noticed how tense he’d been during I-Land with the microphone pack digging into his waist until it disappeared.

“Me too, hyung,” Jungwon says. He remembers watching Heeseung out of fascination over the years, that distanced advice Heeseung had given him during their trip to Brunei. Now they’re so much closer than that; now they make each other stronger, too.

That’s another thing that’s shifted since I-Land. Before, Jungwon saw Jongseong as the balancing point between him and Heeseung, like the fulcrum of a seesaw. But now, everything is in flux, unstable. No one knows what’ll happen; Heeseung befriending him might be one of the biggest examples of that.

Heeseung hesitates, then rests his arm around Jungwon’s shoulder. “We always wanted to get close to you, you know,” he adds. “It felt like you weren’t as interested, back then.”

“What do you mean, _we_?” Jungwon asks.

“Well, obviously Jongseong wanted to be friends with you first.” There’s something uncomfortable in Heeseung’s expression, and he bites down on his lower lip. “But with you, it’s different. I—”

“I get it,” Jungwon interrupts. They’re both close to Jongseong in their own ways. Even if Jungwon sometimes envies Heeseung’s years-long friendship that Jongseong totes around so proudly as though it's one of his designer purchases. “You can rely on me too.”

Heeseung relaxes. “Exactly,” he agrees, tilting his head to bump it against Jungwon’s gently. “You just _get_ it. I can’t believe you’re three years younger than me sometimes.”

Jungwon never knows what to reply when Heeseung says things like that. When the younger trainees tell him the same things, surprised by his ability. It always comes down to this: for as long as Jungwon has trained, ever since his fifth year of elementary school, his closest confidante has been someone decades older than him. With his grandmother as a bedrock of support—with this maturity he takes to more easily than getting along with boys his own age—he’s weathered every possible storm.

Instead of saying anything, Jungwon leans into Heeseung’s embrace wordlessly, into the solid skinniness of his body that Heeseung tries to soften for him. It doesn’t come close to the ease of Jongseong’s affection, the natural warmth with which Jongseong looks after him, but—no, he shouldn’t be comparing the two. It’ll never measure up, like trying to fill a cup of water with a hole in it.

Even so: this, here, should be enough.

//

A lingering hug. Walking through busy streets together, hand in hand. Something warm, something _loving_. Turning back, laughing, only to recognize that he’s with—

Jungwon wakes up, the remnants of his dream melting around him, and stares up at the ceiling. When he touches his forehead, his fingertips come away slick with sweat. His heart pounds in his chest, adrenaline rushing through him as if he’d woken up from a free fall. It’s a similar type of shock, really, to recognize Jongseong’s face within the recesses of his mind.

They’d been on a date. Or, rather, some vague notion of what Jungwon has always hoped a date would be like, because it’s not like he truly knows or anything. He allows himself one foolish moment to just imagine the possibility of it: being a normal high schooler, giving gifts on Valentine’s Day, entertaining crushes. It’s the mundanity of it—fantasy cloaked in something real, the feeling that, if he tried, he could reimagine it for himself—that merely makes every detail more excruciating.

The truth is that he’s always looked at Jongseong with longing for something else, with wanting something more: at first it had been that heart-on-sleeve openness, the way Jongseong had readily let himself seem so vulnerable for everyone else to prod at, then it had been BigHit. Now, his feelings have transformed into something else entirely.

He proceeds to the next stage of his morning routine mechanically, his leaderly duties of waking all the other members up the only thing getting him out of bed. _This is fine,_ Jungwon tells himself in the bathroom as he washes his face with ice-cold water. He can handle this. Dreams are just dreams for a reason. Even as he tries to recall the details of it now, the memories have gotten hazier: they’ve slipped from his grasp, elusive.

Jungwon should have everything under control with the Jongseong problem. It’s easy to deal with an issue so long as he focuses on finding a way out.

Except: his subconscious seems to disagree with him, apparently.

Except: Jongseong’s already awake and drinking a glass of water when Jungwon steps into the kitchen. He’s wearing his glasses—the way he always does in the mornings, his unvarnished self on display—and he looks like a mess. A sleep-rumpled, soft, endearing mess.

Okay, maybe Jungwon _doesn’t_ have everything under control.

Jongseong gives him a look of concern. “Rough night, hm?”

Jungwon usually likes the mornings that Jongseong manages to wake up before him, those days when they share in the brief, still silence of the dorm together. It’s one of the few times that Jongseong is too sleepy to talk much. He’s almost calm this early in the day, instead of his usual talkativeness. It’s a different side to Jongseong, another facet that only Jungwon knows.

Today is something else entirely. “Is it that obvious?” Jungwon says, managing to sound even-toned as usual. “I don’t know, I just didn’t sleep well.”

Jongseong nods in understanding, sliding a glass of water to Jungwon across the kitchen counter. “Did Niki and Heeseung stay up too late again?”

Jungwon takes a sip. “I don’t know.” Even facing Jongseong like this feels so—odd. Leaning forward onto the counter, he rests his head down on his arms and adds, “I had a bad dream.”

Jongseong strokes the top of his head then rests a hand on the nape of Jungwon’s neck. It’s something Jongseong has done countless times before, a gesture meant to comfort, but Jungwon tenses nonetheless.

“What was it about?” Jongseong asks. “Sunoo was telling me a couple days ago about how dreams can have symbolic meanings, you know.”

Jungwon snaps his head up, almost knocking over his water as he scrambles away from the counter. “I don’t remember, hyung,” he says shortly. What’s the symbolism in the two of them together? Surely nothing good. “I should probably wake up the other members now, actually.”

“Alright,” Jongseong replies. When Jungwon turns back to glance at him for a second, he seems wholly unbothered. Of course he is. Because today is just a normal morning in the span of all the days they’ve shared together, because everything that had transpired between the two of them had just been the usual course of things—the steady friendship they’ve enjoyed for so long.

Jungwon needs to deal with this, one way or another. He doesn’t want to rock the boat any more than the next person. But that’s the problem with an idea—once it’s been planted in his mind, it can’t get flushed away; instead, it begins to shade the colors of everything else.

//

“So,” Jongseong begins, picking out a melon popsicle. “My dad’s opening a restaurant in Brunei.” They walk to the front of the convenience store, waiting in line to check out.

“Brunei?” Jungwon repeats, a little distracted. He just had a talk with his grandmother a few days ago about the right time to accept people’s generosity. It came a month too late—Jongseong has bought him at least eight popsicles over the past couple of weeks—but he’s determined to put it to use today.

So when Jongseong wordlessly gestures for him to hand over what he wants to buy, he doesn’t give in; instead, he high-fives Jongseong’s outstretched palm. Jongseong looks over, surprised, but merely squeezes Jungwon’s hand for a second before letting go.

“Yeah, in southeast Asia,” Jongseong replies. He hands his items over to the clerk. “I’ve never been, but my dad says it’s really nice there.”

“Sounds cool,” Jungwon says curtly, stepping up to pay for his popsicle next.

Jongseong nods in agreement and launches into an explanation of _exactly_ how cool it is. Typical. One time Jongseong had spent nearly thirty minutes discussing the artistic nuances of BTS’s _Wings_ without stopping.

Jungwon doesn’t know exactly what to say when Jongseong talks about his travels abroad. They both spend their days confined by the same practice room walls, but Jongseong’s world stretches well outside the bounds of Seoul, of _Korea_ , even—something Jungwon has never experienced.

The last time they’d discussed traveling, Jongseong had blinked at him in disbelief, as if he hadn’t ever realized that two people’s lives could be so different. They’d gotten over the strangeness the next day, but still—it was awkward.

He’s so lost in thought that he almost misses the tail end of what Jongseong’s saying.

“... and he also said I could bring some friends to the opening,” Jongseong continues as they step out of the store. A bit more hesitantly, he adds, “Wanna come?”

“Uh,” Jungwon says. He stares up at the sky as he stalls for what to say. It’s a summer night, the sun still streaking across the horizon: messy and beautiful. Just a year ago, under the same sky, Jongseong had ran into him and mentioned BigHit for the first time.

“We’ll cover everything, of course,” Jongseong rushes to add. He rubs the back of his neck. “My dad just wants to know I have friends, I guess.”

“But you do,” Jungwon points out. Friends that aren’t me, he thinks. Heeseung and the older trainees; Sunghoon and the same-aged trainees; even students from school, hoobaes he’d overheard Heeseung teasing Jongseong about.

“Yeah, and you’re one of them.” He throws an arm around Jungwon’s shoulder, tugging him closer, and Jungwon, too surprised to react, allows the touch.

“Jungwon-ah,” Jongseong continues, straightforward and blunt, “Why do you always act like I don’t like you?”

 _Why do you always make it so hard to forget that you like me?_ Jungwon wonders. He shrugs Jongseong’s arm off of his shoulders and gives a non-reply instead of speaking his mind: “Won’t this affect training?”

Jongseong must take Jungwon’s question as an implicit agreement, for he turns to Jungwon with a wide smile. “As expected of Jungwon,” he says, teasing. “No, we’re just missing a day, it’ll be a short trip. I wouldn’t have gotten Heeseung-hyung to agree otherwise.”

“Heeseung-hyung is coming?” Jungwon asks. “Anyone else?”

Jongseong shakes his head. “No, just you two. It’s—you’re some of my oldest friends, you know.”

Oldest, not closest. There’s a difference there, and Jungwon notices that.

//

A couple of days after Jungwon’s conversation with Jongseong in the kitchen, Heeseung starts giving him concerned looks. It isn’t that surprising—Heeseung is often more perceptive than he expects. But he's also the type of person to wait for Jungwon to approach first, instead of initiating conversations.

Jungwon’s used to being _good_ at self-sufficiency, at solving problems: he’d untangled Jongseong’s thorny awkwardness with Sunoo back before they debuted; he’d tempered Riki’s frustration with the older members during their initial dance practices. So Jungwon tries to see if focusing on his duties as a leader and an idol will be enough to get him through this.

Instead, Jungwon just keeps noticing Jongseong. He didn’t know it was possible to know someone for years yet belatedly become aware of so many new things. Like: he had known that Jongseong wears perfume, but he never connected it to Jongseong’s blackberry-scented hugs. Like: Jongseong isn’t particularly strong or weak, but he has unexpected pockets of delicacy—his wrists, his eyelashes—that Jungwon wants to keep staring at. Even _Riki_ gives him an odd look one day before he snaps out of it.

It takes about a week before Jungwon caves.

In a way, it makes sense. Five years of idol training—taking lessons on how to present his personality well or project his vocal tone—never prepared him for catching _feelings._ Jungwon is finally like any other seventeen-year-old; he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

So he finds Heeseung, one night, and they sit together on Jungwon’s bed. Jungwon’s still trying to think of what to say.

Heeseung ends up breaking the silence first. “Jungwon-ah,” he begins. “Has everything been alright, lately?”

Jungwon finally makes up his mind on what to tell him. He can’t burden Heeseung with the whole of it, he decides. Especially not while Jongseong is so close to them both. But at least he can seek advice, find his way towards a solution through some path or another.

He leans into Heeseung’s side, whispering into his ear. “How do you stop having feelings for someone?”

Jungwon backs away to take in the expression on Heeseung’s face.

Heeseung frowns in confusion. “Who…?” he starts to ask, before seeming to change his mind. “Ah, it doesn’t matter. This is so—wow.” Heeseung starts to smile, now, and he looks almost misty-eyed.

“What is it, hyung?”

“It’s just that,” Heeseung replies, “you’re such a capable leader, and you’re so good at managing things, but—you’re also just a boy.” He pauses. “Wait, is this your first crush?”

“Come _on_ , hyung,” Jungwon says, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “I want practical advice. Nothing more.”

Heeseung’s smile falters. “I don’t know,” he says softly. He stares out at their seven bunk beds, pensive. Framed by the shadows, he looks almost sad, for a moment. “It’s not like I had much of a chance to deal with these things, either.” He pauses, and Jungwon can spot his lip-biting hesitation, the moment where Heeseung visibly decides to cross some invisible barrier he’s constructed for himself.

“In my experience,” Heeseung continues slowly. “I always found it difficult to give up on things—a crush, training, whatever—until I knew I had put my all into it. If I tried my hardest, and things didn’t go my way, then _that’s_ when I’d stop liking that person.”

Jungwon swallows hard as he considers Heeseung’s words. What does _trying his hardest_ even mean in the context of who he is—as the leader of Enhypen, as the curly-haired boy who’d met Jongseong all those years ago?

Heeseung sighs. “This isn’t good advice, but it’s all I have.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jungwon replies finally.

He isn’t sure if going to Heeseung for help has made things better or worse.

//

Following the latest round of leadership tests, the members give Jungwon a bit of space to mull over things. The results had announced Heeseung and him as the top two contenders for the position of Enhypen’s leader, something that Jungwon had never even considered the possibility of before today. _Think over it_ , management had told them. _We’ll reconvene and make a final decision tomorrow._

So Jungwon takes a shower, and as he painstakingly removes every bit of product from his hair, he considers the situation. For as long as Enhypen has been a group, Heeseung has seemed like a foregone conclusion. Heeseung is the oldest, the one with the most experience guiding others during I-Land, so it’s only logical he’d be their leader, too. It’s a role Jungwon has never considered for himself, especially since he’s the second youngest in the group. The other members had seemed surprised, too, although not as shocked as he had expected.

He’s about to enter the makeup room when he hears voices behind the closed door. It’s Heeseung and Jongseong. They’re making obvious efforts to be quiet, but it’s _Jongseong._ He’s never been the best at that.

“Neither of us are suited to being the leader, hyung,” Jongseong is saying, clearly agitated. “You _know_ that.” A pause, then: “Just like how I know this isn't what you want either. Isn’t it a burden to you? Being so much for all of us?”

“What makes you think _he’ll_ be okay with it?” Heeseung returns. His voice sounds harsh, hardened with worry; it’s nearly unrecognizable. “It’s like you forget that Jungwon is only seventeen.”

Jungwon had figured that they were discussing him, but the verbal confirmation sends a jolt down his spine.

“Believe me, I never forget,” Jongseong replies bluntly. “I—we _both_ practically watched him grow up.” And Jungwon thinks he’ll remember the next words Jongseong says for a very long time. “Jungwon is the most capable out of all of us, hyung. Whatever either of us were doing at seventeen, he’s already accomplished that, and more.”

Jungwon doesn’t think anyone has put as much faith in him the way Jongseong does—without hesitation, almost blindly. It’s hard to process. Heeseung, too, seems to be at a loss for words; the only thing Jungwon can hear are the sounds of him pacing back and forth near the door.

Finally, the footsteps stop, and Heeseung says, “I think you’re right.” He sounds relieved, much more relaxed than before: unburdened, and closer to his true self.

“I have good judgment about these types of things, hyung,” Jongseong replies. Jungwon can’t help but roll his eyes at how satisfied Jongseong sounds, and he wonders if Heeseung is doing the same on the other side of the door. “Go on. Convince him, then.”

“You aren’t going to talk to Jungwon?”

Jongseong laughs at that. “He’ll trust it more coming from you, I promise.” There’s an undertone to the way he says it, dark and tired, that’s difficult to parse. Jungwon backs away from the door, still reeling from everything he has overheard.

By the time Heeseung approaches him later that night, he’s ready. They lie in Jungwon’s bed together, talking into the darkness. When Heeseung tells him that he should be the leader, Jungwon accepts it all with a sense of calm he wouldn’t have had without Jongseong’s words to support him. Heeseung whispers encouragement and advice, and his embrace is warm.

And what Jongseong had said about him lingers even warmer, lasting for days to come.

//

Jungwon heads home for the new year, and the short break away from the rest of the members gives him the space to think over Heeseung’s advice.

Truth be told, Jongseong’s feelings and affections are always blatantly clear. Jungwon likes to think that, if there was any inkling of reciprocation possible, then he would have noticed by now. When Jongseong talks to him, touches him, it is with the ease of what they’ve always been for each other: hyung and dongsaeng looking out for one another, oldest friends if not closest friends.

Even so, Jungwon can’t help but _wonder_. Maybe his judgment isn’t as infallible as he’d like to think; maybe Jongseong could consider the situation differently if only he realized how Jungwon feels.

But Jungwon needs to be pragmatic about these things. Over and over, he imagines what it would be like if he confessed: the awkward truth hanging in the air, Jongseong saying something like _sorry, Jungwon-ah, I just don’t see you like that_ , and then Riki summarily replacing him as Jongseong’s beloved dongsaeng-of-choice. Jungwon wouldn’t blame him. Riki _is_ adorable.

That’s partially what’s running through Jungwon’s mind as he asks Riki how his stay with Jongseong had been during the holidays after they both return.

Riki answers with a simple, “It was fine, hyung,” but the expression on his face tells another story.

“Oh, Niki.” Jungwon knows it can’t ever be completely _fine_. While Riki’s parents try to make up for the homesickness with their monthly packages, and the members try to bridge the gap by leaving their beds open to their youngest, nothing can ever replace the warmth of a family-cooked meal, a parent’s hugs.

But Jungwon, trying his best, gathers Riki up in his arms regardless. He tries to channel the feeling of his grandmother’s embrace, still fresh in his memory, and the way it had conveyed home through touch alone.

“I’m glad,” Jungwon says quietly. “We’re always looking out for you, you know that.”

“Enough about me.” Riki sounds almost petulant despite the way he’s leaning into Jungwon’s chest. “Why have you been so weird around Jongseong-hyung lately?”

“ _What_? No, I haven’t.” Unintentional staring aside, Jungwon has been making a point of _not_ making it weird between the two of them. Jongseong would’ve confronted him otherwise; he’s too direct to let issues fester.

“I’m not blind,” Riki says, letting go of Jungwon and stepping away so that they’re looking at each other, face to face. When did Riki become so tall? He looks as if he’s about to tell Jungwon more, but he just shakes his head instead. “Ugh, nevermind.”

“No, say it,” Jungwon presses.

Riki just looks at him for a long time. Until, in a tone leaving no room for argument, he says, “You know, Jongseong-hyung likes you the best.”

Jungwon swallows down a lump in his throat. “I know that.” Whether that platonic affection might translate into anything more is still a mystery to him, though.

Riki shrugs. “You look at him as if you don’t. As if you have something to lose.”

//

Everyone's excited to get new hairstyles. In the whirlwind of events from the past couple of days, it’s yet another step that leads them along the road to finally debuting.

Along with Jake and Sunoo, Jungwon hadn’t had to deal with the hair dye—he’d been a little disappointed, but he figures the upkeep of having colored hair isn’t exactly desirable either—so they’d come back early after their trims. They’re waiting in the dorms, just sitting around in the living room, when the others finally arrive back from the hair salon.

Heeseung’s the first to burst through the door, and he takes off his hat to reveal brilliant red-brown hair. “What do you think?” he asks proudly, turning a little to the side to show it off before seating himself right beside Jungwon.

“It’s nice, hyung,” Jungwon says dutifully.

“I wish I could’ve dyed my hair,” Sunoo adds, a little mournful. He runs a hand through his bangs. “It looks so bright.”

Sunghoon and Riki enter next, Sunghoon unfazed as usual at his return to black hair. On the other hand, Riki’s grinning even wider than Heeseung had as he reveals his honey-blonde hair color. His eyes shine with boyish enthusiasm, and Jungwon’s reminded of just how young their maknae is, then.

Jongseong shuffles in after them, slowly, the hesitance clear on his face. Surely it can’t be _that_ bad, Jungwon thinks, but even he can’t be certain.

“Come on, Jongseong-ah, take the hat off,” Sunghoon says, about to reach for it himself.

Jongseong bats Sunghoon’s hand away before it can make contact, then tugs off his bucket hat. His newly-blond hair is so bright that it’s almost difficult to look at, but it’s not bad. Not at all.

But through dinner, Jungwon can sense Jongseong’s discomfort. Jungwon is just getting settled into his role as the leader, but he doesn’t need Heeseung’s concerned eye contact to get tipped off on the fact that something’s off. In this way, Jongseong is easy to read, his emotions radiating off of him.

“Do you like your hair?” Jungwon asks Jongseong later. They’re sitting in the makeup room together, and Jongseong’s looking at the mirror.

“I don’t know, it kind of hurts,” Jongseong muses, tilting his head to the side slightly. “That, and”—he turns to Jungwon to look at him directly as he says this—”I look like a fucking highlighter.”

Jungwon hadn’t noticed this earlier, but now that they’re closer he can spot the subtle gradations in Jongseong’s hair. “Wait—hyung, you have pink tips.”

“Lavender, actually,” Jongseong corrects, always in the need to be annoyingly precise.

Jungwon rolls his eyes. “Yeah, same thing.” He can’t resist the urge to reach out and _touch,_ and so he does, slowly, with ample time for Jongseong to bat away his hands if he’d so desired. Instead, Jongseong stays still as Jungwon takes a strand of hair between his fingers and feels the stiffness of it against his skin.

“I think it suits you,” Jungwon continues carefully, watching Jongseong’s reaction. “It’s pretty cool, right?”

Jongseong’s smiling, now, and Jungwon can see his reflection beaming in the same way through the mirror. Double the brightness.

“Yeah, it is,” Jongseong agrees, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks, Jungwon-ah. I think it’ll tone down a bit after a couple of washes, anyway.”

And it isn’t like Jungwon hadn’t realized before, how much his words could have an impact on others, but it’s a marvelous thing to see how quickly Jongseong relaxes under his reassurance. So easy, so simple.

//

Jungwon decides to confess.

It’s a couple of days after they return from celebrating the new year that Jungwon finally manages to get Jongseong alone to talk. They sit in the living room together under the bright lights. All of the usual late-night suspects are taken care of: Heeseung’s singing “Given-Taken” to himself in the shower, and Riki’s already fast asleep in Sunoo’s bed. It’s his chance.

But first, Jungwon needs reassurance. “Hyung, we know each other well, right?” he asks, resting his head on Jongseong’s shoulder. Like clockwork, Jongseong’s hand comes up to stroke the top of his hair, absent-minded and fond.

“Of course, Jungwon-ah,” Jongseong replies. His hand stills. “What’s up?”

Jungwon bites his lip. He can’t just come out with it and confess out of nowhere, right? “It’s nothing, I was just wondering. Have you ever had a crush on anyone?”

“Suddenly!?” Jongseong raises his eyebrows. “What’s this all about? Do _you_ have a crush?”

 _Yeah, on you._ Jungwon swallows. “Just answer my question, hyung.”

Jongseong laughs a little at that. “Oh my god, I don’t know—I guess a couple of girls at school are pretty. It’s not like I’ve ever known them well enough to actually like them.” He gives Jungwon a questioning look, then adds, “If you’re looking for advice, then I don’t have any. Seriously.”

Jungwon rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t ask _you_ for advice.” Maybe he should tell him now. He lifts his head off of Jongseong’s shoulder, making sure that he’s facing Jongseong properly as he says, “Have you ever liked any guys?”

He isn’t sure what he’s expecting in response—maybe some measure of Jongseong’s acceptance, maybe something else. It’s briefly crossed his mind a few times before that perhaps Jongseong’s starry-eyed admiration of Heeseung once translated into something more.

“Sorry, _what_?” Jongseong asks, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, in lieu of an actual answer, he says, “Is it—do you have a crush on someone at school?” Jungwon goes to an all-boys school.

Jungwon would find Jongseong’s assumption amusing if he wasn’t concerned by how genuinely troubled Jongseong looks at that moment. It isn’t long before Jongseong attempts a grimacing smile, and somehow it’s even worse than the frown from before.

Jongseong puts a hand on Jungwon’s shoulder, and for one single terrifying moment, Jungwon is _slightly_ worried that Jongseong’s a closet homophobe or something. Then Jongseong, sounding exceedingly awkward, continues with: “I’ll, um, support you no matter what—”

Jungwon can’t take this anymore.

“I like _you_ , hyung,” he interrupts. “In that way. Not anyone else.”

Jongseong’s smile drops. For several seconds, he simply _stares_ at Jungwon, mouth slightly open. If this situation were less fraught, then Jungwon would probably mock how silly he looks, imitate it and make fun of him.

But it’s taking all that Jungwon has right now to maintain his composure. He tilts his head to the side. “So, is it a yes or no, hyung?” he asks lightly. “Can you accept my feelings?”

Jungwon’s hands start to tremble, just slightly, and he balls them into fists. All he needs to do right now is stay calm and _get through this_. It’s better to hear a straightforward response now. Better to know that he tried and failed so that he can get over things without having regrets.

Jongseong finally seems to snap out of it, hand slipping from Jungwon’s shoulder. He presses his lips together in a flat line. Eventually, sounding strangled, he replies, “You can’t just _say_ shit like this.”

Jungwon crosses his arms. “I just wanted to tell you, that’s all,” he says evenly. His voice doesn’t quiver, even though it feels like his whole body is shaking from the adrenaline rush. “You can just say you don’t like me, hyung. I’m not expecting anything from—”

“I know,” Jongseong cuts in. His eyes are darker than normal, and it’s one of the first times his expression seems almost indecipherable. “You don’t expect much from me. You never have.”

Before Jungwon can refute his words, Jongseong turns his face away from Jungwon and continues: “Just let me think about this, okay? I never realized—I never _suspected_ —” he buries his face in his hands for a couple of moments. “Give me some time,” he says through his fingers.

Jungwon’s luck runs out right then. Heeseung emerges from the bathroom, his hair still wet from the shower, and he blinks his wide, curious eyes at the two of them. “Is everything alright?” he asks, padding towards the couches.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Jungwon lies. Even if he doesn’t _get_ Jongseong’s reaction, and it’s the first time he truly doesn’t understand Jongseong. Even if he’d walked into this situation expecting a yes or a no, and now he has neither.

Heeseung’s presence seems to decide something for Jongseong. He stands up from the couch. “I’m going to sleep,” he announces unnecessarily.

Before Jongseong leaves, though, he reaches out to Jungwon’s shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly for a brief second. It’s a gesture Jongseong has offered to him a countless number of times, another example of the quiet comfort that comes so naturally to both of them.

And it’s that reach towards Jungwon despite the sheer awkwardness of what they just discussed, the reminder of everything they’ve already shared together, that makes him feel like this might be alright. Hopefully.

Heeseung gives him a look. “You okay?” he asks.

“Don’t worry, hyung,” Jungwon replies. “I will be.” After all, Jungwon has weathered two different entertainment agencies, five years of training, and the experience of managing six other teenage boys. This is nothing—he can turn it into nothing, he can wash it all away.

Understanding is starting to dawn on Heeseung’s face, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything more. They head back to the bunk beds together in silence.

But, for all the support he manages to give others, for all that Heeseung seems to think of him as a dependable leader, Jungwon is still eighteen years old. So if he listens to a couple of his grandmother's favorite sad ballads and allows himself to wallow in his feelings before finally falling asleep that night, well—no one has to know.

//

Spring’s just starting to melt into summer that year when Jongseong buys Jungwon a popsicle after practice. It’s just the two of them together, no other trainees; for some reason, it’s easier for Jungwon to talk to Jongseong without anyone else around.

“What do you miss the most?” Jongseong asks him. They sit perched on the curb, enjoying their snacks together. “Like, before you became a trainee?”

Jungwon frowns as he tries to come up with something. Jongseong knows that Jungwon has been training since his fifth year of elementary school; it’s not like there had been much for him to miss before then besides the obvious. “Taekwondo, I guess?” he says. Isn’t that the only thing he had? “It wasn’t possible for me to do both, so I had to stop.”

“Oh, yeah, you were really good, right?” Jongseong sighs. “We have so many athletes, huh.”

Jungwon knows he’s referring to Park Sunghoon, talk of all the trainees. A couple of days ago, Jongseong had shown him a Facebook post he’d seen of his classmates fangirling over the figure skater. _I think he might even have a girlfriend, too,_ Jongseong added, sounding envious. Jungwon considered reminding him that he had a lot of things Sunghoon lacked—like the ability to make friends easily instead of standing around awkwardly—but ultimately decided against it.

Thinking about all that makes Jungwon feel odd, so he switches the topic. “What about you, hyung? What do you miss?”

“That’s easy,” Jongseong replies. “Traveling.” He pauses, lost in thought. “We’d used to go all over the place for my father’s job, especially when I lived in the states—it’s so nice, isn’t it?”

Jungwon shifts, a little uncomfortable. Sometimes he forgets how different they are: not just with how readily Jongseong makes friends or allows himself to be made fun of, but also how the ease of his generosity comes from never having a shortage of things to give away.

Jungwon stares at the popsicle Jongseong bought for him, cherry-flavored and saccharine sweet. “The last time I traveled was visiting Jeju when I was, like, seven.”

“What about school trips?” Jongseong asks, surprised. He’s already finished his popsicle, and Jungwon can hear him fidget with the plastic wrapper. “That can count.”

Not looking at Jongseong directly makes it easier for him to admit the sad truth: “I was busy training, hyung. You know that.”

Jongseong is silent for a long time. “I didn’t realize—” he starts, before clearly thinking better of it. “It’s fine, Jungwon-ah,” he continues. “You’ll go all over after you debut—you’ll have a world tour.”

If he manages to debut in the first place. “A world tour,” Jungwon echoes. “Sounds nice, hyung.”

It comes out flat. They’re still getting used to the rhythms of knowing each other, at this point. Still trying to find their own song. But Jongseong switches topics after that, and the conversation finally settles into something more comfortable between the two of them.

And that’s the end of it, Jungwon thinks.

(He’s wrong. A couple of weeks later, Jongseong invites him to Brunei. A month after that, Jungwon travels outside of Korea for the very first time.)

//

Jungwon is good at keeping his cool. It’s part of why he’d been chosen as a leader, after all. The members have been busy practicing for their special stages in separate units, and Jungwon dives headfirst into the work to take his mind off of the situation. Overall, he’s doing a good job of acting calm and composed, as if nothing has happened to him. At least he _thinks_ he is, until Jongseong corners him in the kitchen a few nights after his confession.

He’s drinking his nightly glass of water when Jongseong says, “You know you don’t have to avoid me, right?”

Jungwon almost chokes on his last sip. He sets the cup down on the counter, unsure of what to say. _I’m not avoiding you_ would be a lie, and Jongseong doesn’t deserve any measure of dishonesty. But for the past couple of days, Jungwon has been tense, managing himself with a tight grip. It’s the only way he can think to steer himself out of this mess, navigate his way through unknown waters.

“We’re still friends, right?” Jongseong continues. “I didn’t—I should have made that clear, last time.”

Jongseong’s words are a minor relief, an extension of the last touch he had given Jungwon.

“I won’t avoid you, then,” Jungwon says. “I just thought—I don’t know. That it would be easier.”

It hadn’t been. Staying away from Jongseong had felt foreign, against his nature, like tides resisting the moon’s gravitational pull.

Jongseong reaches out to touch him, then hesitates. “Can I?” he asks.

Jungwon takes a moment to really look at him. Without his makeup Jongseong looks tired, undereye circles on display, like he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. He’s wearing glasses and his sleeves hang past his hands, unintentional sweater paws. Jongseong tries so hard to seem "cool" or "fashionable," but Jungwon thinks he's best at what he's never put much effort into: being cute.

Jungwon nods. He doesn’t expect Jongseong to hug him, but he allows himself to be held in Jongseong’s warm embrace regardless. It’s only been a couple of days but he’s missed it; he’s returning to the right place, waves reaching back to shore.

“I’m still trying to figure this all out,” Jongseong says. Jungwon can feel his lips against his neck as he speaks. “But no matter what, I’ll still take care of you.”

//

A few hours before Jungwon has the Dance Representatives stage in front of the I-Land judges, Jongseong sits down on his bed and asks him how he’s doing. “Ready to perform?”

This past week has been odd for Jungwon. While he’s used to Jongseong and Heeseung looking after him unconditionally, making sure that he’s alright, it’s strange to have the other I-Landers—the ones who aren’t participating in the stages—trying to support him, too. He still doesn’t even know if Jongseong is truly okay with being swapped out with Sunghoon last minute.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungwon replies calmly. And that’s true—he’s spent hours on this, on timing his facial expressions and presenting the most practiced form of the choreography possible.

“I’m glad,” Jongseong says. He bites down on his lower lip, almost conflicted, before bursting out with: “Listen. You have to go out there and win this, okay?”

“Of course, Jay-hyung.” The stage name is starting to feel more familiar on Jungwon’s tongue, even if it creates this odd distance—a disconnect. There’s his _Park Jongseong_ , who’s trained with him for years, and then there’s I-Land’s Jay Park and his more volatile emotions. Jongseong is more fragile than he’d once thought. “Actually, I was wondering—are you okay?”

“What do you mean?” Jongseong asks. He searches over Jungwon’s face, momentarily confused before his eyebrows raise in understanding. “Oh, _that._ I told you it was fine, already.”

True to I-Land fashion, there had been a whole discussion among the older hyungs about part-switching. Jongseong had agreed to it, especially under K’s and Heeseung’s stares, but Jungwon had caught a peek of Seon’s hungry expression—the way he clearly wished such a swap could occur for himself—and wondered if Jongseong even felt a fraction of that same jealousy.

“Yeah, but—” Jungwon stops himself, not sure of what he could say. _But I know you're more delicate than you let on. But K-hyung and Sunghoon-hyung were there, and you're more honest to me when we're alone._ It’s not like such things make as much of a difference now, when their microphone packs are a constant reminder that they’ll never be by themselves, a barrier between them that is difficult to scale until the night falls.

Jongseong leans into his side briefly, a silent reminder that they’ll be alright. “Don’t worry about me. What matters is that we all win, okay?” he says. “I know you can do it—just do your best, and everything else will follow.”

Jongseong’s certainty makes Jungwon feel like he’s grown up without noticing. Like they've settled on a semblance of mutualism in their friendship that hadn't existed before, a simple give and take. It makes Jongseong’s embrace following their victory seem that much sweeter.

//

The horror movie is Sunoo’s idea. Jungwon doesn't like watching them himself, but he's developed a tolerance for it over the past couple of months; he knows that most of the hyungs don’t feel the same way. Sunoo, Riki, and Heeseung are the only ones who enjoy scary movies, honestly.

“If you get everyone else to agree, then sure, let’s watch it together,” Jungwon says, half-expecting the plan to fall out.

Sunoo must’ve worked some sort of special magic for everyone to agree. Back in October, before they’d debuted, Sunoo had attempted to organize the same thing and it took hours for the members to decide on what to watch.

Jungwon is thankful regardless. Now that they’ve all managed to settle into a semblance of a working dynamic, they don’t have as many forced-bonding type meetings anymore. Even so, it’s entertaining to have nights like this, with all seven of them sitting in the living room together; they’re not quite the family they claim to be in front of the cameras, but every day they get closer to sealing the gap between expectations and reality.

Jungwon is starting to reach a new normal with Jongseong, too, after their last conversation in the kitchen. He still doesn’t know what Jongseong actually feels about him, but being friends has always been simple and easy. It’s gotten to the point that Jungwon is used to looking at Jongseong and talking to him with that aftertaste of _this is someone I like, someone I have a crush on_ burning in his mouth.

So it’s no surprise that Jongseong settles in beside him as the movie starts to play. Jongseong is fun to sit next to during horror movies, albeit a little—by a little, he means _extremely_ —distracting. He’s probably the biggest wimp Jungwon knows.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to watch this movie, hyung?” Jungwon teases, turning to face Jongseong. “Bet you can’t last thirty minutes without screaming.”

“I’ll be _fine,_ Jungwon-ah,” Jongseong replies. He presses his lips together, clearly trying to suppress a smile. “Probably. Hopefully.”

“Bet you can’t last fifteen, Jongseong-ah,” Heeseung calls from the other end of the couch. He grins over at Jungwon; they both know that Jongseong can never resist a challenge, especially from Heeseung.

“Yah, hyung,” Jongseong groans, without any bite to it. “Let’s just start the movie, alright?”

True to his word, Jongseong actually _doesn’t_ scream for the first part of the movie. But that’s mostly because he’s cowering into Jungwon’s side instead, hand shielding his eyes from the television screen every couple of minutes.

“I seriously can’t watch this,” Jongseong whispers. This close, Jungwon can smell a hint of blackberries. “Oh my _god_.”

“You’re the one who made a bet, hyung,” Jungwon replies, patting Jongseong’s back as he hides his face in Jungwon’s shoulders once again. Exhibit A of Jongseong being cute without even trying, of making his heart race without even knowing.

“Are you sure this isn’t cheating?” Sunoo mutters from the other side of Jungwon. He raises his eyebrows at Jungwon, clearly amused.

Jungwon grins. “He probably can’t make it through the movie otherwise, so let’s just allow it,” he says in a loud whisper.

“I can hear you two, you know,” Jongseong grumbles, a weak protest.

And for the most part, the movie does go pretty well—there’s a part where all seven of them scream in surprise, even Sunoo and Heeseung, but they all laugh together about it afterwards. They’ve grown so much from the Enhypen who would spend more time squabbling over what to see as opposed to actually watching the film, the Enhypen for whom disagreements made up the fabric of daily life. The members still have their awkward spots, but it’s been a while since Enhypen has felt like seven individuals as opposed to one whole.

It’s fun to be all together like this. Even more than that, it’s nice to be with Jongseong, close and near, once again.

Because even if Jongseong’s warmth leaning into Jungwon’s side reminds him of things that he might never have, it raises his hopes a little, too.

//

On the same day Jungwon barely escapes elimination from I-Land, he sleeps in Jongseong's bed at night. They wait until it’s late, so late that they don’t have to wear their microphone packs, and then they talk.

“You’d break the egg, huh?” Jungwon whispers, unable to hold back his teasing. “Can your father pay for all that damage?”

“I was just trying to make a point, Jungwon-ah.” Jongseong grumbles. Jungwon doesn’t need to be able to see Jongseong to picture the expression on his face: slightly amused, slightly frustrated. His favorite type of Jongseong.

“And your point was?”

It’s a while before Jongseong answers. “Remember when we first met?”

Jungwon frowns. “Before BigHit?” It’s been a while since he’s thought about those days. Joining Belift had come with a lot of different requirements: being banned from speaking to the other trainees, addressing Jongseong as “Jay” once they reached I-Land, and pretending he hadn’t known Jongseong before 2018.

“Yeah,” Jongseong replies. “You were just a kid back then.”

“You were too, hyung,” Jungwon says, unable to resist himself.

Jongseong sighs, exasperated. “Fine. You were just a _baby_. Is that better?”

Jungwon feels his cheeks grow warm and would be more embarrassed if it wasn’t just the two of them. “No, not really, but go on.”

“It’s just that no one knows how much you’ve gone through,” Jongseong says. Except you, Jungwon thinks, letting it go unspoken. “It’s been so long. Don’t you ever feel like you’ve grown up too fast?”

 _Yes. No. Always._ Jungwon doesn’t know how to respond. He’s used to Jongseong’s bleeding-heart earnestness. He’s used to Jongseong’s silent touches and loud, brash actions. He isn’t accustomed, however, to facing a problem of his own circumstances, an issue that he can’t just turn back and fix with more practice.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Jongseong continues. “I know you can take care of yourself, but—”

Jungwon scooches just a little closer to Jongseong, so that he can rest his head on Jongseong’s shoulder. At that moment, he doesn’t know a name for this feeling—for the emotions he experiences when Jongseong shows his affection so clearly, a lighthouse’s beacon that cuts through the fog of everything else. Letting him know he’ll never be lost at sea.

So all he says is a simple, “Let’s debut together, hyung.”

//

It’s right when Jungwon gives up on Jongseong ever giving him a definitive stance on his feelings that Jongseong seeks him out again. He’s just about to head to sleep.

“Sleep on the couches with me tonight?” Jongseong asks. “I have something to tell you.” The only way to have privacy in a single dorm bedroom with seven bunk beds, really, is to leave the room in question.

“Sure, hyung,” Jungwon replies. The air around them seems to swim with anticipation. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat as he grabs his pillow from his bunk bed and brings it to the couch.

Jongseong follows soon after, tossing a blanket to Jungwon. He’s about to sit down beside Jungwon on the couch then seems to think better of it, turning on his heel to switch off the lights instead. “It’ll be easier in the dark.”

 _What will be easier?_ Jungwon’s pulse quickens as the room floods with darkness. Everything colored in shadows, as if they’re deep in the ocean’s depths.

Jongseong sits beside him. Unlike nearly every other time he’s sat next to Jungwon here, he doesn’t put his arm around Jungwon’s shoulder.

“Did you figure it out?” Jungwon asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yeah, I did. It—I thought about this for a while, Jungwon-ah,” Jongseong replies. “I mean—I care about you a lot, but I never really thought about us outside of just being friends, you know? It just never—I never even considered it.

“I was also thinking of what it meant for the team, too, and even though you’re so dependable it could affect—”

“Hyung, can you get to your point,” Jungwon interrupts, starting to get a little impatient. _How it could affect the team_ can only mean one thing, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

“I’m _getting there_ , Jungwon-ah.” Jongseong takes a breath. “But then, when I thought about what it really means, to have a crush on someone, to like someone, I realized…”

“You realized?” Jungwon prompts. He leans closer into Jongseong’s space almost subconsciously, as if it’ll help him hear Jongseong’s words faster.

“Well, I like you too,” Jongseong replies. It cuts through the silence of the rest of the dorm, sinks into Jungwon’s skin, something warm.

Jungwon can feel his cheeks heating up, feels like he’s buzzing from within with excitement, because this is real. This, here, the two of them. It’s hard to fathom, but it’s also the simplest thing in the world.

Jongseong laughs quietly. “Sorry, hyung was a little slow on the uptake.”

Jungwon reaches out to put a hand on Jongseong’s shoulder. “When are you not,” he teases, surprised at how steady he feels. He can hear relief bleeding through his voice but he doesn’t mind.

“Stop it,” Jongseong complains. All bark and no bite. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Jungwon raises his eyebrows. “Just cute?”

“No. Not _just_ cute.” Jongseong has a hand on his shoulder now as well, and suddenly Jungwon is aware of just how close they are. “You’re also—”

Jongseong must realize too, for he stills completely, just stares at Jungwon. A moment suspended in silence, fragile and precious. It’s dark, but Jungwon can make out all he wants to see in Jongseong’s face. He doesn’t need anything more than that.

Jungwon figures he might as well just go for it, if Jongseong won’t do anything. So he leans in and kisses Jongseong’s cheek and says, feigning nonchalance, “Now that we got that all sorted out, shouldn’t we sleep?”

“Uh,” Jongseong says, blinking in surprise. Jungwon smiles, satisfied at his reaction. He’s almost about to turn away so that he can spread out on the other couch when he feels Jongseong duck and press his lips to Jungwon’s ear for a second.

“Was that supposed to be a kiss?” Jungwon asks. He rests his forehead on Jongseong’s shoulder, trying to keep his laughter silent.

Jongseong runs his fingers over the nape of Jungwon’s neck. “Um, maybe?”

“You kind of missed, hyung,” Jungwon notes once he has calmed down. He lifts his head and looks at Jongseong.

Jongseong is looking right back. “Well, there’ll be plenty of time to make up for that,” he whispers.

Now Jungwon’s the one left speechless. It takes a while for either of them to actually go to sleep after that. But it’s with Jongseong’s promise—of a future together, of the days to come—that Jungwon rests soundly. He doesn’t dream.

//

February, Jungwon decides, is the best month of the year. Enhypen has their first fan meeting, and all of the members shed tears while finally seeing Engenes in person. Jungwon’s birthday comes up right after that, and while Jongseong does end up filling the dorm with smoke when he burns the frying pan, the steak he cooked tastes delicious. Then there’s Seollal, and Jungwon gets to return home and see his family once again.

It’s a busy month. They start to prepare for another comeback, and the usual process of hiding their hairstyles at all costs begins in earnest. Between all their hectic schedules and his birthday, Jungwon almost forgets that Valentine’s Day even exists.

Or, rather—Jungwon doesn’t forget, but he’s practical about these things. There’s no need for frivolous presents, for dramatics or heartfelt expressions of emotions between the two of them. It’s enough to catch Jongseong’s eye from time to time and share in a smile. Enough to be reminded that Jungwon has managed to take a sliver of his adolescence back for himself in between being an idol and a leader.

Jongseong, on the other hand, doesn’t exactly do _practical_.

“How much longer do I have to cover my eyes?” Jungwon asks. He’s sitting on his bed, palms obscuring his vision just as Jongseong had told him to. He can hear Jongseong rummaging through some box in the hallway, and he’s starting to get impatient.

“Just another minute,” Jongseong replies.

Jungwon swears at least five more have passed before Jongseong enters the room again.

“Okay, here.” Jongseong places something heavy in Jungwon’s lap then sits down beside him. “You can open your eyes now.”

It’s a box. Jungwon takes a moment or two to observe it, the neat edges and glossy white exterior. “What’s inside?” He gives it a little shake. There’s not much of a sound, just a soft thud, so he’s guessing that it’s clothes.

“Why don’t you open it?” Jongseong replies. He’s so obviously nervous—hands fidgeting, leg bouncing up and down—that it’s endearing. Jongseong turns his head away. “Ah, I can’t watch this. Oh my god.”

Jungwon sighs. “Hyung, look at me.” Jongseong faces him again. They aren’t close enough to kiss, just close enough to take each other in for a moment.

He reaches out to touch the side of Jongseong’s cheek. His thumb traces over Jongseong’s eyebrow slit, smooths out the furrow between Jongseong’s brows.

“You know I’m going to like it regardless, right?” Jungwon continues. _Because it’s from you. Because you’re the one I like._ He feels Jongseong relaxing under his touch, and he starts to smile. “I mean, how could I hate a present from the master of _rock chic_ himse—”

“Yah, come _on_.” Jongseong laughs, looking far less nervous than he did before. Jungwon thinks that he might do anything for a trace of Jongseong's sheepish smile. “When are you going to let that go?”

“Never,” Jungwon replies, grinning back at him. He doesn’t want to let go of Jongseong, either.

Jungwon glances down at the box again. Sitting here with Jongseong, waiting to open the present Jongseong had bought for him over Seollal, he almost doesn’t want to find out what’s inside quite yet.

After all, it’s the possibility of what’s within that’s so captivating. The anticipation of all that’s to come for the two of them, for Enhypen, that makes Jungwon look forward to waking up every morning. He can’t wait to share in that future with Jongseong—the same future he’s been working towards ever since they met.

Jungwon takes a deep breath and opens the box.

**Author's Note:**

> if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading ♡♡ comments and kudos are really appreciated~
> 
> [twt](http://twitter.com/storyboxed) / [cc](http://curiouscat.qa/wished) / [extended author's note](https://permutative.dreamwidth.org/8144.html) / [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2DdPrZGKQdXvVSHuY2Gbfz?si=4f7404e40b3d47a1)


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